Hannibal's Lullaby
by TheMusicalPoet
Summary: Hannibal and Clarice live the perfect life with a beautiful child. The youngster is Hannibal's escape from his turmoil, and his pride and joy.


HANNIBAL'S LULLABY

The sun was setting over Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling's haven in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Warm, sweet air hung in the fields surrounding the two-story _maison à deux_, tinted orange by the glow of the dying sun. Crickets could be heard in the tall grasses while birds chirped softly in the trees. Hannibal and Clarice were sitting happily upon their backyard terrace. The setting was rich with colour, happiness, and peace.

However, the couple hardly took notice of the beauty around them as they watched the one object that held all of their love and affection in the palm of her tiny, soft hand. A young girl played upon the terrace, enraptured in the scenic landscape beheld to her, and unaware of the eyes that danced across her back. The offspring of Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling was the epitome of innocent beauty. She was framed with dark blond curls, and eyes caught halfway between maroon and deep green. Her soft round face reflected Hannibal's soft wit and cunning, while her playful, curious expressions reflected those of Clarice. She had a fiery spirit, but was controlled and tolerant. She was strong and intelligent, yet timid and gentle. The young child was truly a symbol of their union.

As they watched their child lovingly, the late evening hour brought tidings of sleep to the idle family. Clarice yawned, and turned to Hannibal who seemed lost in some secluded corner of his elaborate mind palace.

"Hannibal, it is time for her to sleep. I will take her to her bedroom and you can ju– " 

"No, Clarice," he said pensively. "No, I will put her to bed tonight."

Clarice nodded and smiled sweetly in her motherly way. Turning from him, she passed through the threshold into the house, her long, navy gown flowing delicately after her.

Hannibal stood up from his seat on the terrace and called softly to his daughter.

"It is time to rest, young one. Come here with your father." She ran to him with her childish grace, her soft curls fluttering in the breeze. He extended his hand and caught her's with his. They walked together into the beckoning house.

They made their way down the lavender scented hallway and into the third room on their left. An elaborately carved door opened into the small girl's bedroom. A fire crackled in the fireplace at the far corner of the room beside a bookshelf and a chest of teddy bears and blankets. On the dark wooden floor was placed an elegant rug that stretched across the room. In another corner of the room was a small bed beside a night table. The bed bore a burgundy duvet and gold and cream coloured pillows. Hannibal and Clarice chose it all for their daughter. Love poured from every object in the warm bedroom.

With a graceful hop, Hannibal's child made her way into the bed.

"Very good, my love, but it is most important that you wash before bedtime. Run along to the bathroom. Your mother will be waiting there for you."

She made a sound of remembrance and left the room. Her soft footsteps could be heard padding down the hall to the bathroom where the sound of running water could be head. Clarice was drawing a bath for the girl.

Hannibal sat down on the side of the bed. He looked about the room that they had furnished with pride. He and Clarice had provided the family with wonderful safety and comfort. What more could he ask for? There was nothing in the world that he would trade for this serenity; this freedom.

He found himself suddenly pulled away from reality and wandering down the halls of his mind palace. He passed by rooms of pleasant memories, seeing faces and places long forgotten. He kept walking. He went down a spiralling stairwell of happy thoughts, and proceeded down rickety stone steps. The memories were darkening. Further and further down a dark hallway he went until he came to great iron gates. He pushed through the mind barrier and found himself in a barren wasteland.

Hannibal was faced with his darkest childhood memories: terrible people, horrible wars, unfortunate deaths, and unmistakable pangs of sadness, fear, and guilt. Horrified, he tried desperately to fight his way back into the safety of his mind palace. He seldom lost hope, yet this time he felt himself losing control.

_Save me, Clarice!_ he cried in his head.

He awoke being prodded with tiny fists.

"Wake up, Daddy. I am cleaned now," cried Hannibal's daughter. She smelled pleasant, like Clarice. He figured that she had used her own products on the child. She was wearing primrose pyjamas and her hair was drying in soft ringlets.

Hannibal was dragged from his mind palace. He was astounded at the episode he had experienced. However, it was clearly no more than a simple nightmare. After all, there had been a fair amount of trauma in his life. He looked at his daughter and he deeply hoped that no similar misfortune would be bestowed upon her. He would make sure to the best of his abilities that none would.

The girl crawled into the bed for a second time and snuggled under the blankets. Hannibal gazed at her with his fatherly pride, bid her goodnight, and kissed her on the forehead. But when he reached to turn out the light, she grabbed his arm and pulled him towards her.

"Pease stay wif me, Daddy," she said almost inaudibly.

Hannibal recalled that Clarice usually waited until their daughter was asleep before leaving her alone. He would not make that mistake again.

Thinking that it would help her sleep, he went to the small record player on a nearby shelf and put on Bach's music from the Well-Tempered Clavier. He made her move over slightly as he climbed in beside her and turned to face her. The girl curled up beside him quietly, but seemed to have no intention of falling asleep. She looked up at him with her enchanting eyes and smiled contentedly. Hannibal felt a brief wave of emotion, and continued to wait for her to fall asleep. Meanwhile, Bach's preludes filled the room.

Within several minutes, the child was beginning to dose off and on. Hannibal wished that he had had one of his parents to put him to sleep every night. It would not be so though, and he hoped to give his daughter all that he never had. It was his way of fulfilling missed moments of his young years.

Inspired by the scene, Hannibal began to speak words to his daughter that he had thought of often. He was not singing, but nor was he speaking. It was simply expression that danced _sotto voce _over the harpsichord music.

_Under the stars, under the moon,  
Sleep will come to take you soon,  
I will be here when you awake,  
Then the path together we shall take,_

Hannibal's daughter shifted slightly. Her eyes fluttered open, then closed. He continued.__

We will wander down the memory halls,  
Wondering at life's rises and falls,  
Forever and always far from pain,  
In our eternal shelter from grief's rain,

One far off day I will have to go,

_But you will be alright and you will know  
That, though most things fade, my love cannot,  
You shall, my lamb, be in my thoughts._

Hannibal surveyed the scene. It was so peaceful and magnificent. It seemed that he had taken the very core of his mind palace and made it real inside the tiny room. There was so much he wanted to do for his sleeping angel. He would share with her all of his knowledge, and encourage her to do whatever she might wish. Yet he felt that, with her bright personality, this was all he would need to do; the rest she would learn on her own.

The corners of Hannibal's mouth were upturned in a small grin. It was a sight that most people feared to see. This time, however, he meant no harm to anyone. The child had brought to life a Hannibal that lay dormant for several years. Though Clarice had managed to hold his heart captive, it was his own daughter who had tamed it. She held his very heart in her hand. He reckoned that, were she lying in the arms of cupid, she would devour the weeping mass.

Hannibal continued to keep watch as he took note of his daughter's breathing; the telltale sign that she was fully asleep. It was slowing dramatically as she relaxed into a bath of dormancy. As he removed himself from the bed, she let out a heavy sigh. He turned from the bed and stopped in the doorway. Flashing one more glance at the resting lamb, he left the room and walked down the hall. The Variations played on.

Hannibal made his way past his own bedroom where Clarice was already sleeping. He descended the stairs and entered his kitchen. He poured a rich coloured wine into a flute and sat down on a leather sofa in the room adjacent to the kitchen. His mind was racing, but it is difficult to say what he was thinking.

No words could describe his placid composure as he stared at nothing in particular. He seemed to be replaying all the events in his life; sorting them to find an appropriate place for the miracle that had occurred just recently. The miracle of giving life satisfied him as much as the shameless way he once took life. It was a theory that needed to be considered and conveniently placed on his immense mental landscape.

As the minutes passed, Hannibal repeated the words he had pondered earlier.

_One far off day I will have to go,_

_But you will be alright and you will know  
That, though most things fade, my love cannot,  
You shall, my lamb, be in my thoughts._

He reconsidered the final line:

_You shall, my lambs, be in my thoughts._

The words echoed inside his head as he surrended unto a peaceful, dreamless sleep.__


End file.
